Scarred
by Real.Smile
Summary: Not all scars are visible. Not everyone wears their scars the way that she does. Some survivors keep their scars hidden. No matter what the scar, visible or not, we all need someone to share the pain with. And that act, the act of sharing, is what brings us love.


A/N: Hello. This is a plot that's been sitting in my head for a long while, and it's be begging to be written and so I wrote it. So this is a Post-Hogwarts, AU story. I've never really written an AU story, so this is something new. I also have never written a story with these two characters, so that's also something new. However, they are two of my favorite Gryffindors and I think that they deserve some love. Also they are like one of my top non-canon parings, like I ship them so hard. And I'm rambling, because that's what I do. But I hope that you all like it and please review.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

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 _Spells everywhere._

 _There was no safe space._

 _The once safe corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were no longer safe. The corridors that were once filled with light and laughter were now crumbling around her. Everything that she had ever thought about Hogwarts, how safe it was and how impenetrable it was, had all been a lie. A fabrication told to her, and her classmates, to give them the illusion of safety. They weren't safe. They had never been safe here._

 _Especially now._

 _Now that the Death Eaters had proven just how easy it was to break into the school and attack the student body._

 _Now wasn't the time to think about that though. Now was the time to use all the things that she had learned during her time in school to defend herself, to defend her friends. Now wasn't the time for thinking; now was the time for fighting._

 _A point well proven as a spell collided with the wall just to the right of her head, causing her to whip around and cover her face with her arm so that her face wasn't scarred by the bits of rock expelled from the explosion. She looked up a moment later, her wand at the ready. They weren't going to catch her off guard again._

 _She was strong enough to do this. She was competent enough to do this. She had learned enough to do this._

 _Of course she thought that until she was looking into the cold, hard eyes of Fenrir Greyback. He had no wand in either of his hands. Standing well over six feet tall, he didn't need the magical stick to look intimidating or to make her feel like her own magical stick would do no harm to him. He opened his hands, allowing her to see his long, dirty fingernails and curled his lips back. Even though there were sounds of fighting and explosions, she felt like she could hear his low growl. It rattled every bone in her body._

 _Nothing had prepared her for this._

 _The young girl pointed her wand at the beast in front of her. Her hand was shaking and she couldn't remember anything at she'd been taught in her seven years of schooling. She wasn't prepared for this._

 _But he was._

 _He charged at her and the only thing that she could think to do was to back away. However, what good was that going to do? He was barreling down the destroyed corridor not even bothering to step around the pieces of the pillars that were lying on the ground._

 _How did she end up here?_

 _That was the last coherent thought that she had. The last thought that she had before the beast tackled her, his claws digging into her chest, and knocked her to the ground. As her back made contact with the hard ground beneath her, she felt all of the air leave her body. The sound of cracking greeted her ears and for a moment she was convinced that it was just the sound of the walls splintering around her. However, when the pain flooded her system she realized that the pain she was feeling was a result of the sound; a result of a beast slamming her into the ground and cracking her ribs._

 _She wanted to scream; she tried to scream._

 _But nothing._

 _The beast above her dug his teeth into her neck, and his claws into her sides._

 _The sides of her vision blurred from pain as she was forced to listen to the sound of her flesh tearing._

 _This was how it was going to end._

 _This was how she was going to die._

 _She was going to die gazing blankly into the empty, cold eyes of a werewolf._

Lavender Brown woke with a start, blankets tangled around her legs and in a cold sweat. Her dirty blond hair was plastered to her forehead and no matter how hard she tried to remove the strands of hair, they wouldn't budge. So after a long while of trying, and failing, she gave up, falling backwards on to the bed.

Her heart was still pounding and she was unable to cool down. It would have probably helped if she had removed the blankets that were tightly wrapped around her legs. However, she couldn't bring herself to move from her current position.

It was the same dream. Every night. She would dream of her almost death. The dream was always so vivid. It was like she was having some sort of out of body experience and she was watching herself be mauled.

Her heart rate started to slow, but only slightly. With that she started to feebly move her legs, trying to untangle them from the blankets, but it was no use. Not only had she physically rolled herself in the blankets, but the sweat had soaked them to her pale legs. There was no way that she was going to be able to free herself like that.

Her hazel eyes glanced over at the clock, an action that she immediately regretted. The numbers _5:52 am_ glared back at her. She groaned and covered her face with the pillow. She'd been asleep for a few hours, but it felt like seconds. And there was no going back to sleep after that. She'd tried and it only ended in more sweat and more frightening dreams.

Seeing as sleeping was out of the option, the woman sat up and spent a few moments untangling her pale legs. Once free, she swung her legs off the side of the bed and let her feet come in contact with the the soft carpet. She picked her hair off the back off her neck and allowed the the sweat soaked skin there to breath. She could feel the sweat rolling from the nape of her neck and down her spine, soaking the back of the navy shirt that she was sleeping in.

A shower; that's what she needed.

But not right now.

Right now, she was going to go and make herself a cup of tea.


End file.
